


Robins In The Dead Of Night

by MoonySideDown



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Dick is a Good Brother, Gen, Tim Drake is Robin, i have no idea how old he is when he meets bruce in current canon, i just winged it, lol winged, there was very little research done here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-22 18:44:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12488384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonySideDown/pseuds/MoonySideDown
Summary: The Original Robin(tm) catches his brother when he falls...or at least right after.





	Robins In The Dead Of Night

**Author's Note:**

> A request from tantalum-cobalt from my tumblr for Tim and Dick, with these prompts-
> 
> "just take a deep breath" + 'exhausted numbness after crying'.

Looking back, while the rain drummed on the pavement around him and the cold began to seep into his bones, Tim couldn’t figure out why he’d thought coming out without Bruce had been a good idea.

 

He sat in a dark alleyway, shivering, leaning against a building. His ankle felt like it was on fire, throbbing harder with each passing moment.

 

It wasn’t broken, or at least he didn’t think it was. He didn’t remember hearing or feeling a snap, and it wasn’t at an angle or anything. He wriggled his toes in his waterlogged boot and despite the bright stabbing pain the motion ignited in his ankle and foot, it was possible. He could feel his toes and his foot, which meant even if it _was_ broken no nerves were damaged.

 

He had to get home. Which meant getting up, which meant trying to put weight on his injured foot.

 

What time was it? How long had it been? It seemed like ages but also no time at all since he’d stumbled upon the gang involved in the illegal weapons smuggling ring Batman had been working on finding for weeks. He hadn’t even been sleeping, which had been what had led Alfred to slip a couple of sleeping pills into his tea that evening after dinner.

 

Tim had found their base of operations, finally, right after Bruce had gone to bed. He’d only meant to check out the building, do some planning so that once Bruce was back at it they could take the gang down together. He had thought the building was empty when he’d found it dark and silent. He’d poked around a bit, seen and heard nothing, and gotten too comfortable.

 

Comfort was definitely _not_ a problem now.

 

Bracing his good leg against the ground, he slid up the wall just a little, got his hands under himself, and maneuvered to his feet. Or...foot.

 

Gingerly he rested the injured foot on the ground. It hurt, but not much more than holding it up had, so he added a little more weight, like he was going to stand on it.

 

A jolt of pain zapped up his leg the moment he shifted his weight, and he shifted his weight again so quickly he leaned sharply to the opposite side and fell against the wall.

 

Gritting his teeth, focusing on the way the brickwork scratched against his face instead of the fire in his ankle, he swallowed pained and frustrated tears.

 

He was only fourteen, what was he doing thinking he could do anything like this on his own? What had he told Bruce himself, not too long ago? Batman needs a Robin. Well, it went both ways, and he knew it.

 

_Stupid, stupid._

 

But his ankle wasn’t broken. It wasn’t. He could walk on it, it would just hurt. He could walk it off.

 

He pushed himself upright, careful to keep most of his weight on his good side. When he took his arms off the wall he teetered for a moment, then steadied himself.

 

“There. Walk it off, Robin, walk it off-”

 

One step forward with his bad foot, and he fell forward with a sharp cry of pain he didn’t have time to stifle.

 

The landing on his hands and knees jolted his whole body and he bit his tongue painfully, though the pain in his mouth was nothing compared to the pain elsewhere in his body. He stared at his own face in a puddle on the pavement and tried to keep his breathing even.

 

Something had definitely shifted in his foot when he’d tried to walk. His ankle might not have been broken, but his foot probably was.

 

_Stupid._

 

All he wanted, while he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to force the tears away, was to be back at the manor. He could practically see the couch in the living room, feel the blankets he would wrap around himself, and hear the TV while Bruce watched some boring news program. He wanted his video games, a mug of hot chocolate heaped with whipped cream, and the rain outside the window where it belonged.

 

Once the pain had dulled to a steady, drumming throb, he let out his breath and tried to figure out what to do next.

 

“Robin?” A familiar voice called from above, echoing slightly in the alleyway.

 

Tim lifted his head reluctantly, his wet hair falling over the mask and into his eyes. Of all people to find him this way, he honestly would have preferred Batman.

 

Nightwing jumped from the fire escape overhead, bounded down the walls, and landed like a cat on the wet pavement a few feet away, crouching gracefully to take the impact of the fall before straightening neatly and walking over. “You’re hurt.”

 

It wasn’t a question, so Tim, face burning with shame, didn’t answer.

 

“Where’s Batman?”

 

“Home.”

 

Dick crossed his arms, voice dropping in irritation. “He sent you out alone?”

 

“No,” Tim answered quickly, eager to save his mentor from Dick’s anger. He already got enough of that for things he had actually done. “I went out alone. He...he doesn’t know I’m out here.”

 

If that surprised Dick at all he didn’t show it. He knelt down beside Tim, still on his hands and knees in the grimy alley dirt. “What’s hurt?”

 

“My foot. And my ankle, kind of.”

 

“Can’t walk? Or are you looking for loose change?”

 

Tim actually smiled, despite the cold rapidly overtaking his whole body. And the throbbing in his foot. And the fact that he was pretty much ready to die of embarrassment. “Well y’know, being Robin doesn’t pay much.”

 

Dick stood, and before Tim could turn to see what he was doing he’d hoisted Tim off the ground, flipped him with all the ease of someone lifting a newborn kitten, and rested him over his back, arms around Dick’s neck. “Hang on, I’ll get you back.”

 

Dick walked with Tim as easily as if he weighed nothing more than a kid’s backpack, and they set off down the deserted streets of Gotham past midnight.

 

He wasn’t sure if he should be relieved, or embarrassed. On one hand, he was guaranteed a way home without having to hobble on a broken foot. But on the other hand, going home meant facing Alfred, and later Bruce, and recounting the entire story of exactly what had happened and how stupid he’d been to think he could handle anything without Bruce holding his hand.

 

Not to mention, of all people to find him out like that, Dick Grayson, the original Robin, had to be the worst one. What would he think of him now that he’d snuck out without Batman’s permission, gotten hurt, and stranded himself in the middle of Gotham?

 

He’d tell Bruce that Tim wasn’t worthy of being Robin, that’s what he would do.

 

Tim’s neck started to ache from the odd position he was holding his head, so he finally just let his forehead rest against the back of Dick’s neck.

 

If the taller, older boy minded, he didn’t show any sign of it. He just kept walking, humming something to himself as he went. It sounded like the theme song of some cartoon but Tim couldn’t place it.

 

They passed a darkened storefront window and Tim caught a glimpse of himself in the glass. Draped over Nightwing’s back like a ragdoll, arms and legs flopping while he walked, cheek resting against the back of Dick’s neck. He looked more like a child being carried home by their father than like a hero. He certainly didn’t look like Robin.

 

He felt tears rising up again, not tears of pain like before, even though his foot shot fresh bolts of pain up his leg every few seconds, but of frustration and shame. Why did he think being Robin was a good idea? Why had he accepted Batman’s offer? He knew he was no hero. He was just a stupid kid. What had ever made him think differently?

 

Fortunately, the rain kept pouring during their entire walk. Tears mixed with the rain on his face so no one would be any the wiser as he blubbered like a little kid the whole way back, biting his lip to keep himself from sobbing out loud.

 

After what seemed like a million years, they arrived back at the cave and Dick set him down on one of the cots in the med bay. He was still breathing funny but at least he could disguise his attempts to wipe away his tears as wiping away the rain running from his soaked hair.

 

Alfred wasn’t in the cave, and Bruce wasn’t either, fortunately. Dick moved back and he thought he was going to go find Al. Moments later, though, he returned with a box of tissues and a sympathetic, gentle smile.

 

A fresh wave of embarrassment washed over Tim, and he felt his face go an even deeper red than the crying had already turned it. He took the box from Dick’s hand and refused to meet his gaze, mopping at his eyes with a tissue while even more tears spilled over. He just wanted to cover himself with the cot’s thin sheets and never come out again, never face Bruce or Alfred or especially Dick ever again. Forget this ever happened. Maybe he could just stay there until he died.

 

Dick walked away and for a moment Tim was relieved, until he came back with a towel and sat on the cot beside him. Tim shook with the sobs he was trying to stifle. Dick draped the towel over the younger boy’s head and scrubbed at his sopping wet hair.

 

The action was unexpected enough that Tim calmed just a bit, and lifted his head to try and figure out what was going on.

 

“Just take a deep breath,” Dick said gently, pulling the towel off his hair and using it to wipe the rest of Tim’s tears away. “Tell me what happened so I can tell Al I was there. You’ll be in less trouble that way.”

 

Tim stared at the older boy, blinking in shock.

 

Dick reached over and peeled off Tim’s mask, wiped at the tears that had been trapped under the material with a smile. “You’re a real Robin now, sneaking away from the manor without Batman.” He hopped off the cot gracefully, and lifted Tim’s bad leg carefully. “Turn.”

 

He obeyed, still startled, and let Dick rest his bad foot down on a couple of stacked pillows.

 

The sound of steps on the stairway down into the cave made Dick tense, and he looked up at Tim urgently. “I need the story, Timmers, unless you want me to make something up from scratch, but let me warn you that rarely ends well against Alfred.”

 

Still a little dumbfounded, Tim opened and closed his mouth a few times before his voice worked. “I-I figured out where this gang was working out of and I went to check it out, I didn’t know they were still th-”

 

“Got it.” Dick spun around just in time for Alfred to reach the bottom of the stairs, his expression somehow both concerned and very, very stern.

 

“Master Timothy, Master Richard, what in heaven’s name are you both doing down here?”

 

Dick glanced back with a quick, reassuring smile, and Tim felt the painful tension in his shoulders and back fade.

 

“Sorry Al, I meant to call you earlier but I guess it never went through. See, Bruce had mentioned this gang and I happened to stumble across their hideout’s location. I borrowed Tim here to give me a hand…”

**Author's Note:**

> (The song Dick is humming while he carries Tim is the original Teen Titans theme song...at least in my mind.)


End file.
